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About Los Angeles

Favorite part? That “Fish Tank” vibe—awkward, dirty, real. “You’re my best mate,” Mia’s stepdad lies—same as “just a massage.” Bullshit! Always more, slippery slope, hands wanderin’. Funniest thing? Guy I know, swears he’s “pure,” gets caught in a parlor—priceless! Sarcasm aside, it’s human—messy, dumb, kinda hot. Oh, and typos? Screw it—massgae, sexyal, who cares? You get me. Thoughts? Too many—brain’s a damn pinata. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but that’s the kick—sexual-massage ain’t subtle, pal!

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Verily, mine own boot-soles have trod the path 'round Cove Island Park, where nature doth play a soothing lullaby to the soul. The leaves dance in breezes, and each gentle touch remindeth me of a massage stroke upon tired limbs. I have oft felt my spirit soar, like the flicker of candlelight in a darkened chamber, when I beheld the sunrise at Mill River Park. And oh my friend, art thou aware of the quirky neighborhood of Turn of River? A hidden gem known to few, where street art and small cafes create a haven for rebels and lovers of life alike; a veritable feast for the eye, and an inspiration for the weary soul.

A Schedule No One Asked for: Stamford Students, Parents, and Teachers Rally in Protest